


Love Masked as Devotion

by YukiYashaH



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-22
Updated: 2019-08-22
Packaged: 2020-09-24 09:02:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20355910
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YukiYashaH/pseuds/YukiYashaH
Summary: Gilbert had pledged his allegiance to Byleth atop the Goddess Tower, three years ago. Over the course of the years, the seasoned knight watched over his new liege with a warmth in his smile that he hadn’t felt in over twenty years... but he wasn’t allowed to feel such happiness for he was an undeserving man. Or was he?





	Love Masked as Devotion

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Danny](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Danny/gifts).

During the first few years of his self-imposed exile, then-Gilbert refused to allow himself the simple pleasure of smiling. He had abandoned his allegiance, family and name -- he wasn't worthy of forgetting the suffering he inflicted on those he had left behind nor those he had failed to protect.

Smiling would mean that he was forgetting, that he was putting it all behind him to start anew. And he could never forget.

How could he, when the dead has smiled their last before his own failure as a knight? How could he, when the living he left behind truly smiled their last during the time they called themselves a true family?

No, there was too much at stake: too many regrets, too many ties wrapped around his wrists, little by little pulling him down to a murky darkness -- to a place he could never truly return from. Not as himself.

A self-imposed prison he would never set foot out of, the guilt so overpowering he couldn't even bring himself to say his own name without wanting to disappear in shame. Gustave had failed. He had let his King and fellow knights die -- he had scarred the Prince in a way that would never truly heal.

The disgrace of his true name followed him closely, heavier as the years passed, pulling him down. Pulling, strangling, drowning... Sometimes even his own voice failed, the deep, viscous darkness preventing him to even utter apologies to the ones he had left behind.

Other times, apologies were the only words he had left.

Four years he had ran. Ashamed, he had turned to faith to pray for salvation -- not his, mind, but for those he had failed to protect. If only they could be at peace, perhaps he, too, one day...

Five years more he had ran, the sin of losing his King's son adding to the burden he could never lift from his shoulders.

For nine long years Gilbert had prayed, dumping his worries unto the goddess in a vain attempt to lighten the burden -- if all of them were at least safe in the afterlife, perhaps he, too, one day...

"Praying won't help you atone." Byleth's words had felt like a slap on his face, said during such an otherwise uneventful night the now Archbishop had most likely forgotten it by now. "It's OK to hold on to the ghosts of your past, they are part of who you are. But you can't let them hold on to you and deprive you of your own life."

That right then, those wise words imparted from someone so young yet so burdened by the throes of duty... Gilbert quite literally and most certainly felt his whole world change. He could feel as though a strong gust of air had disheveled his air, the magnanimous force of nature imbuing his sight with the light he had lost almost a decade previous.

Had breathing always been that easy? He could feel the air fill his lungs vigorously, a new life -- or perhaps the acceptance of his old one -- running through his veins.

To allow yesterday to be done, and focus on tomorrow.

To learn from his mistakes and not let them drag him down -- to accept the importance of those he had lost to be able to focus on those he was afraid to lose. On those whose smiles he had robbed with his shameful departure.

On those whose smile he swore to protect.

His eyes fond, Gustave softly shook his head to dispel the thoughts of the past that crept inside his mind the moment he set foot inside the Archbishop's study.

The comforting yet worrying scene the knight witnessed might have been the reason to set his old brain off to nostalgia island: Byleth slept peacefully, a satisfied smile on his face, over a mountain of papers he was yet to sign.

Gustave worried for his new liege -- mostly about the terrible neck pain he was sure to have should he remain sleeping in that position -- though he couldn't help but want to watch the scene for a moment longer.

Byleth had always been someone any person could depend on. He would offer sound, thoughtful counsel as was also willing to lend an ear for his brothers-in-arms, his expression often serious or attentive.

Honestly, Gustave thought that the younger man tried a bit too hard to match those of... higher years than himself. Yet, Gustave himself had been on the receiving end of Byleth's kind, warm heart, so he hadn't the right to tell the Archbishop how he should or should not behave amongst his peers.

What he _could_ do as his knight was give him a stern scolding for overworking himself, neglecting a proper, restful sleep and advise him to make more use of his own services. Gustave would happily burn the midnight oil alongside Byleth, for as long as these old bones of his allowed him to.

Still, Gustave's body betrayed the scolding his mind had prepared by simply procuring a blanket to place over Byleth's shoulder, not wanting him to catch a chill during the night.

"Mhm," Byleth groaned in his sleep, suddenly much more comfortable than before, his body sinking even deeper into the papers -- a perpetual ink stain attaching itself over his left cheek.

"Hah," Gustave chuckled lowly, daring to take a tuft of hair from Byleth's eyes, placing it behind his warm ear. "Let's get you away from there, shall we... Byleth?" He murmured as though he was saying something forbidden, the name of his new liege something he dared say very little lest he became much too used to the way it rolled around his tongue.

Carefully, the man bent down to pick the Archbishop up in his arms, making sure to put Byleth's head on his own shoulder so as not to wake him up. He weighed so little for a man who held the burden of the entire church on his shoulders! A slender, fragile-looking frame that hid such a bottomless strength of heart, soul and body.

Deep in his sleep, Byleth snuggled himself in the warmth of Gustave's chest, his serene smile growing as he mumbled incomprehensible sleep talk. Not to mention the smudged ink obviously marking his cheek.

Clearing his throat, Gustave tore his eyes away from the adorable sight, adjusting the younger man over his arms one last time before making his way to the Archbishop's chambers.

"May your sleep always be this peaceful, Byleth. I shall do everything in my power to protect this serenity." Gustave's low voice rumbled in his chest, making Byleth groggily nod at it.

Reaching the nearby chambers, Gustave struggled to open the door for a good five minutes, not wanting to move Byleth too much to open it with one of his hands but unable to muster the flexibility to do it with one foot.

After a while, the knight gave up, quietly pressing his shoulder -- protecting Byleth's body with his arm -- on the door so as to use one hand to turn the handle. It did so with a loud bang, slipping from his fingers since his grasp on it was weak.

Panicking, the knight flinched, quickly checking the status of Byleth's sleep.

"Mhm..." The Archbishop slightly moved in Gustave's arm, snuggling deeper into the older man's chest.

"Hahhh..." Gustave sighed in relief, now worried that his thunderous heartbeat could aid in waking Byleth up. "Being this clumsy at my age; what a disgrace," he snorted in spite of himself, making large, silent strides towards the bed.

He softly placed the Archbishop atop the mattress, careful and masterfully stripping him of his coat and boots before finally laying him down fully, finally covering him with the thick blanket.

Puffing his chest for a job well done, Gustave once again smiled at the sight of the vulnerable side of Byleth's only him could see. "Good night, my liege." He whispered before turning on his heel to leave, this time soundlessly closing the door behind him. "Sweet dreams, Byleth." He said to the dark wood, placing his forehead on its cool surface.

From inside the room, over the bed and under the blanket, Byleth covered his face with both hands, his face burning so much he teared up. "G-good night, Gustave."

The following morning, Byleth was unable to meet his knight's sight for more than ten seconds, quickly averting his gaze while blurtering this or that excuse.

"Have I done something to offend you, my liege?" Gustave approached the matter as Byleth knew he would, no later than early afternoon as they walked through the corridors towards the mess hall.

Flinching, Byleth cleared his throat. "I, uh, had a- a dream, yes. I had a dream last night." He mentally patted himself on the back for the smooth save, but somehow felt as though he could hear Sothis groaning in disgust at the back of his mind. Strange feeling, though, since he hadn't heard of her since she imparted her power on him, six years ago.

"A dream, Archbishop?" Gustave tilted his head downwards, his long braid dangling right into Byleth's point of view. "Is that related to me in any way? I have noticed you've yet to meet my gaze today..."

Byleth's eyes trailed away from Gustave, towards the opposing wall of the corridor. "Will you not call me by my name?" He said in a squeak so low it made Gustave squint as though he could understand by heightening his vision.

"Pardon?"

"I-" Byleth breathed deeply, trying to bring his usual inner peace. "I heard you call my name in my dream." He blurted out, proud that he managed to sound much more composed than he actually was.

"Oh." Gustave straightened his back, clearing his throat. "Did you now?"

"Strange, though," the Archbishop scratched his head, trying to play coy. "I never actually heard you call me by my name, but in my dream... it was so real."

"Must I have a talk with the Gustave of your dreams, my liege? To address someone of your stature with such familiarity is unthinkable."

Byleth mentally choked, his face exploding in embarrassment. He was glad he kept it away from the knight the entire time. "The 'Gustave of my dreams', huh?" he cleared his throat.

The realization of how suggestive that sounded made even the seasoned knight feel the heat rising to his cheeks, quickly dispelling it with a cough. "Why, was he not? If I never called you by your name, the only one who could have had done so was he."

"Silly," Byleth mumbled, hiding a tiny smile behind his hand. "Even though the Gustave of my dreams is right here."

"I wouldn't advise mumbling while looking away from someone, my liege. It shows a true lack of respect-"

Byleth turned to the corridor in front of them in a sudden, flashy movement, stealing the words from Gustave's lips. "I was _saying_ that I simply wanted to hear the real Gustave, the one in front of me, to say my name, since the one in my dreams made me curious about it." He almost pouted, making the knight feel a twinge inside his chest.

"That I cannot do, my liege."

The reply was so readily given it made Byleth's heart fall faster than he was prepared to. "Because I am the Archbishop and you're a knight, so it would be disrespectful to?"

"Indeed." He nodded solemnly, his steps heavy beside Byleth's light ones.

Sighing, Byleth's shoulders hung slightly. "And if I weren't Archbishop? Before I even had any influence you still only called me 'Professor' even though you weren't my student."

Gustave hesitated for a beat. He knew the answer to that; of course he did.

But it wasn't one that he could give. It wasn't one he was allowed to give, not while he was still so unworthy of thinking about a happy future as he was.

Of course, it was because of Byleth that Gustave could even start thinking about the future without letting the past take the best of him, but... A decade of guilt wasn't so easily washed away. He wasn't going to be okay after only three years under Byleth's service; under his constant light and serenity.

He wasn't going to think himself worthy of being happy, not while he still hadn't repaid for the grief he had caused to the ones he loved -- to the ones he had left behind.

"I am simply giving respect where it is due, Archbishop." He replied after only taking a short breath, the torrent of thoughts, regrets and phantom feelings washing him over despite the lack of expression he showed.

"..." Byleth kept silent, the small slouch showing that he still wore a slight pout over his lips; not that Gustave could see them for he always walked a step behind his liege. To keep himself in his own place.

They reached the mess hall in silence, retiring to their usual spot at a corner. Byleth sat down as Gustave took it upon himself -- as always -- to go fetch their provisions.

Eating at the mess hall amongst all other residents of Garreg Mach monastery had always been one of the few pleasures Byleth managed to keep after becoming Archbishop. Well, it was under no shortage of grumbling from his knight, sure, but it was a hard fought win for the former professor, so he always held those precious moments close to his heart.

Even at that moment, his head down and his gaze unwilling to meet Gustave's, he still cherished watching his knight's impeccable table manners from under his bangs.

It was foolish of him, perhaps even childish, to get his hopes up after a simple name-sharing, bed-placing sluggish night -- Gustave might as well have been treating him like he did Annette for all Byleth knew. Calling a younger person, although of higher bearing, by their name during a time they could not hear just to show how apart they were in maturity.

Or something.

Byleth groaned, resting his pounding forehead on the back of his hand which still held the fork. He knew Gustave. He wasn't like that. He wouldn't admonish someone because of their age!

But then, what did last night mean, if not a wish for something more to happen?

Was that all wishful thinking from Byleth's part? If he looked at the scene from a bystander's eyes, would he only see a proper knight caring for his liege? Byleth had had his share of knight-watching from his time as a teacher at the academy, and even more so during the war.

He had seen Dedue do almost the same thing with Dimitri -- trying and failing to carry him as he slept, making him food as he woke up, being always there for whichever need the Prince could have... Byleth had witnessed such undying display of loyalty many, many times.

Was it what that was? Loyalty? Duty?

Byleth wanted to paint the picture in a rosy hue, but even Gustave himself had so earnestly denied the matter mere moments ago. He shouldn't think too much into it. He shouldn't hope. His heart should _not_ flutter like this with the memory of how good it felt to hear his name in Gustave's voice.

How warm and strong the knight's arms were, and how easily he was carried through the corridors. How _caring_ Gustave had been during it all, even embarrassing himself in being uncharacteristically clumsy.

There was no way Byleth could forget, neither brush it off as simple loyalty! And yet... Gustave's readied denial made the Archbishop's heart fall every time his brain replayed the scene.

A warm hand over his own made Byleth pull away in panic, quickly lifting his head. "Hu-weh?" He blurted out, his face devoid of color.

Gustave immediately retracted his touch, fearing he had disgusted the poor Archbishop with his vain attempt of carefully calling for his attention.

"Forgive me for my rudeness, my liege." He bowed slightly, hand over his own chest. "But you've barely touched your food. Is there truly nothing more worrying you?"

Huffing, Byleth felt his vision split from how fast his heart was beating. For a moment he thought Gustave had seen through his deepest desires and accepted him. Or rejected him.

Byleth didn't know what would be worse for his heart.

"I'm... fine." He said after a while, twirling the fork between his fingers before holding it properly so as to finally eat. "But I have something to say once we go back to my office."

"I will listen to any of your commands, my liege." Gustave concurred gracefully, his expression stern as usual, though only a trained eye could notice how his brow flickered slightly at the mention of the talk.

They once again walked in silence through the halls as they headed back to Byleth's study.

"I believe there was something you wished to tell me?" Gustave crossed his arms behind his back, his posture erect and impeccable.

In contrast to Byleth's slight slouch. "I have, yes." He said as he entered the door Gustave promptly opened for him. "You should visit your family." He said after taking three steps inside, not bothering to look back.

Which had been a mistake on his part, for he missed the look of utter shock and loneliness that ran so quick across Gustave face it was as though it had never been there. "My liege...? Have I displeased you so deeply that you would send me away?"

"Oh, come now." Byleth forced a smile as he circled his desk so as to sit behind it. "You haven't gone in a while, right? Actually, I think you only went two or three times after you started serving me here, three years and a half ago, I believe? They must miss you so very dearly."

Gustave felt as though Byleth's words were shoving him back into his place; back into where he belonged. Where _he_ should have put himself at with more energy.

Of course, thoughts of his family never left his mind. Why, just earlier today he remembered how much Annette and Allinda enjoyed a good cup of tea with honey before a meal to 'open up' their appetites, as they liked to say... But those were far-away thoughts, memories he could barely grasp with the tip of fingers.

They were always at the back of his mind, yes.

But Byleth had always been at the front, especially lately.

Hearing Byleth himself mention his family made Gustave feel as though he had been betraying someone, though he wasn't certain whom. Himself? Byleth? His wife, Allinda? Annette? King Lambert?

The list of people Gustave had to live for to repay his sins was as long as the years it would take him to do so, which made him only wish to be able to live that long to see it all done.

From a parent and estranged husband's standpoint, there was absolutely no reason to refuse Byleth's order. Why, he would be able to go back to see how much his homeland had changed under King Dimitri's rule _and_ spend time with his family.

Yet, his heart refused, bickering within his chest as though it were a crying child wanting to be tended to. Gustave opened and closed his mouth, a bitter taste preventing him to speak for a moment of two, but quickly regaining his composure. "As I do them, Archbishop." He said in a clear voice, piercing Byleth's heart. "However, I cannot simply go and leave you unattended-"

"My duties will keep me here at the monastery for a good part of the semester, as you know." Byleth interrupted, wanting to hide from Gustave's sight lest he started wailing and begging for him to stay instead. "I promise I'll summon you once I'm in need of your services -- at the upcoming summit with the western church."

That meeting was scheduled to happen in five months! Byleth was truly sending Gustave away like that-

"We can meet in Fhirdiad, halfway to the Western-" the Archbishop continued, not giving the knight the luxury of even think straight.

"I must refuse." Gustave said immediately, finally remembering he could walk towards Byleth's desk.

"Gustave?" The Archbishop looked up to the approaching man, his heart racing. Why was he so intent on staying? He should be happy to see his family-

"I refuse meeting halfway, my liege. I will not allow you to leave Garreg Mach without my personal escort. It was because I agreed to meet King Lambert in Duscur that the tragedy happened. I will not allow it to happen again; not while I still draw enough breath to protect you."

Blinking, Byleth felt elated and disappointed at the same time -- happy to be held in such high regard by Gustave, but sad that the other man wasn't saying he would rather not leave altogether.

"... Very well," he looked down to the papers on his desk, already neatly organized after this morning's meetings. "Then I shall grant you leave to be with your family, but I want you to return fifteen days prior to my departure to the Western Church. That should be enough time to let you in on all formations and details. Is that acceptable?"

Gustave bowed deeply, one hand over his chest. "It is, my liege. It's most magnanimous of you to take my family in consideration during such a turbulent time of your new post." He straightened his back swiftly, his serious gaze almost piercing through Byleth's regretful one. "Then I shall take my leave to prepare for the trip. I shall send a letter to precede my arrival, as well."

Byleth simply nodded, lowering his head so he wouldn't see the knight leaving. His heart was heavy enough with only listening to the strong steps becoming more and more distant, his eyes burning with unshed tears.

Gustave left the room with a renewed sense of guilt -- how dare he get complacent in his thoughts of atonement! How _dare_ he start to enjoy his time at the monastery while there were people he had hurt waiting for his return so he could pay for his sins?

How... how dare he.

His jaw was numb so hard did he grit his teeth, his fists clenched with such strength they trembled. How dare he.

The day Gustave departed, Byleth didn't go see him at the gate. Instead, he watched from atop the Goddess Tower as the knight left with an uncharacteristic hunch on his back, mounted on his horse towards the frigid Fhirdiad.

It hurt to see him go.

It hurt to have him close.

It hurt, hurt, hurt... "Oh, Father..." Byleth choked a tearless sob, holding the ring Jeralt had given him a lifetime ago. "Forgive me... I don't think I'll be able to pass on this ring after all." He clutched it close to his chest, looking at the same spot Gustave had pledged allegiance to him over three years ago.

Byleth could feel the warmth of that same sun, the dazzling sunset painting Gustave's hair in a purple light engraving itself into his own heart, never to leave. He would never forget that day, for as long as he lived. He had known, ever since the day he started carrying the ring to present it to his love, that he would never be able to do it to anyone but Gustave.

A man plagued by a life of dragging guilt.

A man whose smile came easily whenever he saw a child having fun. A man who was stern regarding meals, but lenient when it came to letting Byleth indulge into a snack or two.

He was stern most of the time, his hardened expression already dug into his face from wearing it daily over the years -- but whenever it all broke down to show his smile it only made Byleth feel his knees grow weak and his throat want to cry out.

Warm tears rolled from Byleth's cheeks; tears his skin hadn't felt in a long, long time. "It hurts so much, Father... Tell me what I should do!" his knees gave out in front of the balcony, the memory of a dusk-painted Gustave flooding his mind. He had suppressed these feelings for so, so very long.

So long did he try to wear the mask of a mature man; to be seen as an equal by Gustave. To be acknowledged. To... to be loved.

Loved by the man he oh so desperately wanted, but was the last man on the land he could ever hope to have. So cruel was the fate of a man who wanted nothing more than to share in the warmth of the one he oh so cherished...

He cried four years' worth of tears, his fingers cramping with the strength he used to hold onto the small ring. Day turned to afternoon, the Archbishop unmoving from his spot, a faraway thought at the back of his mind telling him that people would be freaking out looking for him at that moment. His eyes red from crying for so long, Byleth slowly directed his gaze to his closed hands, struggling to pry them open from their cramping position.

Once again he looked at the ring he was never going to share with his love, watching how it stared back at him.

In the six months that followed, Gustave devoted himself to doing whatever his family desired, as though they were his new lieges instead of his own flesh and blood.

Annette complained a lot at first, forcefully trying to make him act more natural around them, but it turned out to be rather difficult. Gustave wasn't the same man he was in the past. It was as though he had truly turned into Gilbert -- a hardened man that hadn't seen his family in so long he forgot how to interact with them without apologizing for every misstep; or indulging their every wish.

Being once again reunited with Allinda made Gustave's heart sink, but don't get him wrong. He loved and thought the world of her. She was a bright woman who managed to raise their child alongside his brother, despite holding onto the hope that her husband would come back after so long. He held her dearly close into his heart, their bonds of friendship certainly ones that would never break.

Hence the guilt in Gustave's heart. He loved Allinda as his dear friend. He wasn't supposed to feel that way towards the woman whose life he most certainly ruined. He had to love her and make up to all of the years he made her wait and suffer for him.

Yet, he could only softly hold her hand and kiss her forehead whenever they met, his heart wanting her near, but not too close.

Gustave started noticing his own shift of behavior towards his wife only after Byleth forcefully sent him there -- for the past four years he had been visiting, never did he think something was wrong.

But it was.

Allinda and Annette both realized it, but it was as though they wanted him to realize it himself instead.

The way he always looked out of the window whenever he came home, waiting for the courier to bring the message that it was time to return to the monastery.

The way he cared for them from a safe distance, as though there were an invisible barrier around his heart that neither of them could get too close to.

The way his smile would wear a bright glint whenever he spoke of his time at the monastery.

They both knew it, but they wanted him to figure it out by himself.

This time they spent together was precious, don't get them wrong. It was a time they were making up for the decade they lost -- and although the exact same atmosphere couldn't be brought out, they could still get along as a family with a bond just as strong yet inherently different.

The day the message finally came for Gustave to return to the monastery, the knight unconsciously wore the brightest smile Allinda had seen him bear in over twenty years -- perhaps ever since Annette had been born, really.

It was the smile of a man going back to where he belonged -- to be alongside the one he had placed his heart with.

She patted his shoulder. "You don't need to hold yourself back for me, you know."

The letter fell flat on the floor, such was Gustave's surprise. "Allinda-"

"I'm glad you finally noticed, too, good grief." She crossed her arms playfully. "Even Annette was getting tired of waiting."

Gustave held both of Allinda's hands. "I cannot- Allinda, the pain I've caused you-"

"Honestly, the way you are now is only going to bring me MORE pain. I'd rather see you smiling truthfully during your time here than only when it's time for you to go. And if you can only smile when you talk about the Archbishop, then so be it." She rubbed her thumbs over his hands, glad to be able to have this conversation with a level head. If she had tried to say these same words seven years ago, she would be throwing a fit.

But now she was okay.

They were okay.

Gustave's head drooped in shame, his face contorting into an expression he couldn't quite explain. "Allinda-"

"Shh, save your tears for your man." She dried an odd tear or two from his cheeks, squeezing his hand with her other one. "I'm not saying you shouldn't come back -- I still hold you dear into my heart and wouldn't want to lose a friend -- I just don't want you to feel obligated to be with me because of the past. It's fine already."

His chin trembling, Gustave dared wrap his arms around Allinda, softly sobbing by her shoulder. He hadn't the words to thank nor apologize, the burden of the overpowering guilt he felt slowly, ever so slowly dissipating from his back.

During the journey back, Gustave procured an item that he would most certainly need once he returned to the monastery. One that he should have given Byleth four years ago, but was much of a coward to do so then. 

Yet, Byleth wasn't there to welcome him once he came back.

But it didn't matter.

He felt a youthful spring in his step as he climbed the Goddess Tower, the deepest, most romantic part of his heart telling him that Byleth would be there waiting for him, much like before.

His lungs burning from the strenuous climb, Gustave wheezed once he reached the top, the afternoon light coloring Byleth's hair in a dazzling purple. An intricate ring hung by the Archbishop's neck as a makeshift necklace, making the knight's gaze turn to it momentarily.

"G-Gustave! How did you know I-" Byleth stuttered, quickly hiding the ring from his sight.

Panting, slowly regaining his breath, Gustave tried to straighten his back to no avail. "I have come... to renew my vow to you... Byleth."

Looking away from the knight, it took more than a minute for Gustave's words to ring into Byleth's heart. "Your knightly vows, I'm presuming?"

"No." Gustave smiled, his eyebrows deep with worry and regret. The Archbishop didn't even flinch with the mention of his name, after all that scene from half a year ago...

"Then...?"

Gustave took out the small box which contained the ring he had bought for his beloved, solemnly presenting it to him. "Forgive me for not kneeling, my lie- no, my beloved, for I think that if I were to do it now after running all these stairs I would not be able to get up."

Byleth's hands fell limp on either side of his body, the ring dangling by his necklace. "This- I- Gustave- Your family-"

"Alas," the knight smiled, taking a step towards his liege and love. He relished on seeing how Byleth didn't move and simply raised his chin so their eye contact wouldn't break. "It was my ex-wife who had to give me the push I needed to do this, I am ashamed to admit."

Surely thinking he was dreaming, Byleth placed both hands over Gustave's chest, wanting to feel his heartbeat, their eyes never leaving one another. "To do 'this' what? Gustave, you need to say everything or else I'll keep believing you'll swear to be my knight again, but now with rings!"

"Hah!" The knight threw his head back. "I may have traumatized you, have I not, my love? Forgive me for being such a stubborn old man for so long... Allow me to say it fully: I love you, Byleth, and have been in love with you for quite some time now. Forgive me for denying these feelings for so long; but I will be yours right at this moment if you'll be mine for as long as this lifespan of mine allows."

Byleth slammed his head into Gustave's chest, making the older man let out a strangled 'oof!'. "You're so slow! By the goddess, it took you long enough!" He sniffled, gripping at the ring by his neck. "I love you so much I still think this is a dream."

"Allow me to disperse such thoughts, then?" Gustave said, slowly lifting Byleth's chin with his index, intertwining their breaths as their lips brushed against one another. 

Byleth felt his tears itching down his cheeks, his legs trembling so much he felt faint. But once he closed his eyes to finally enjoy the rough, delicate kiss of his beloved Gustave, everything felt right again.

They would exchange rings and finally accept each other's feelings... But for now, they would enjoy that overly due, much needed, sweet kiss. The first one that would mark the beginning of the love of their lives.


End file.
